


Is That Money In Your Pocket? Or You Happy To See Me?

by Konfessor2U



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Dean needs a break, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Stripper Castiel, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs to escape for just one night, and he thinks the strip club will offer some relief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That Money In Your Pocket? Or You Happy To See Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a song: Kill the Lights by Britney Spears.
> 
> Don't judge me, I just always think of this when I hear that line.

Dean stood in the tiny entryway, deciding whether to go left or right. On a normal night, he would have chosen to go right, because that direction promised all of his favorite things; busty, sexy women wearing tiny bits of fabric, shaking their hips for money. Tonight was not a normal night. In fact, no night in the past few months, and especially the past week, had been normal. The demon trials, Meg, Hell, Sam, Crowley, Castiel, Metatron, Sam, Ezekiel. Angels _falling_ , their burning wings creating horrifically beautiful streaks across the night sky. He saw them every night, over and over again when he actually did get the chance to sleep, and this was not normal.

He needed to get away, so while Sam was safely asleep in the Bunker, resting from his trial sickness with the help of Ezekiel, Dean took the opportunity to get out, take his mind off things. He and his baby drove for hours, desperate to get away from the Bunker and all things supernatural, choosing a small town that seemed to have all the amenities. In Dean's case, that included a diner and a strip club.

He went left, out of his comfort zone, hoping that seeing male strippers would take him out of his head. Getting off wasn’t really his goal tonight anyway, he just needed a distraction.

Making a bee-line for the bar, he was intercepted by a scantily clad man, more like a boy, with a tray of shots of various colors. He politely declined, settled on a swivel stool, and ordered a glass of whiskey. While he waited, he spun the chair around taking in his surroundings. There was a rather muscular, darkly tanned man wearing only cowboy boots and hat, and a thong on the stage. He was making his rounds, dancing lewdly for anyone who tossed a single onto the stage. Dean rolled his eyes at the cliché male stripper representation, and figured that it wasn’t all that different from female strippers. Except that he wasn’t interested.

His gaze floated across the crowd, noting all the different types of people enjoying the show. A few couples, both gay and straight, sat watching, smiling stupidly, and giggling to each other. There were many people there alone like himself, all enjoying the show. Dean couldn’t help but think that they had no idea what was actually going on with the world. A man in the corner was getting an enthusiastic lap dance from one of the strippers, and he looked like he barely knew his own name, let alone knowing that all of Heaven fell to Earth.

He shook those thoughts from his head, he came to clear his head, not dwell on it. When the bartender placed his drink on the bar, he quickly swallowed it down, earning him raised eyebrows from the man. He ordered another.

The song changed and that brought everyone’s attention back to the stage, all eager to see the next guy. He turned out to be another typical male stripper, tan, shaved, well-muscled, and seemingly, well-endowed. His gig was a fireman, threatening to get everyone with his “hose”. Dean rolled his eyes and ordered another drink.

He had to admit, the change of scenery was certainly doing good for his brain. For one, he couldn’t stop thinking how weird it was seeing dicks all over the place, but it served its purpose. Secondly, the whiskey was all doing its job, he was feeling warm and sort of detached. He might have to sleep in the impala tonight and drive back in the morning, and he made a mental note to call Kevin later to let him know where he was.

The fireman stripper was now completely nude and swinging his “hose” around in the patrons’ faces, they seemed to be enjoying it despite their embarrassment. And what the hell, he was here, right? Dean closed his tab with one last glass of whiskey and made his way over to the seating area around the stage. He awkwardly made eye contact with the guy he sat next to, and gave him a slight nod, unsure of male strip club protocols. The man nodded back. Apparently, right and left were not so different.

Again, the music changed and the fireman picked up his money and discarded clothing, giving a cheeky wave as he exited the stage. The new music was ethereal and a bit mysterious, Dean wondered was the next theme would be. He sipped his whiskey, staring down into the glass for a moment and then took another sip, which he promptly choked on when he saw the next guy.

Coughing and sputtering, he could barely see the man on stage through his tears. The nodding man patted him on the back, asking if he was ok. He shook his head and nodded at the same time.

No. He was not ok.

The next act was an angel. The stripper wore white silky briefs and feathery wings on straps. To top it off was a tiny gold halo seemingly floating over a head of dark hair. His back was turned from the audience, so he couldn’t see his face, but his body was long and lean, pale and less stripper like than the others.

His hips swayed with the music, Dean figured he was trying to wiggle his ass, but his technique was poor, and the movement ended up awkward and choppy, and the cheap costume wings flopped around uselessly. The crowd loved it anyway, and some people on the other side of the stage started to throw singles. The angel shimmied over to those people and really laid it on thick, running his hands all over himself, squatting low and thrusting his hips.

Dean had to get over himself so he threw back the rest of the whiskey, relying on the burn to remind him of why he was here. He needed to get out of his head. He forced himself to watch the man wiggle and shake. It didn’t really do too much for him, but he focused on the stripper’s ass anyway, thinking that it was actually quite a nice one. Despite the stripper’s terrible moves, the people loved him anyway; he made just as much money as the others, probably playing off the innocent factor.

One particular move involved the man turning around and bending to show off his ass, his head raised just enough to catch Dean’s gaze. Brilliant blue on green, and the world stopped. Dean’s world did at least.

“Cas,” he whispered, as his hand let the whiskey tumbler fall to the floor with a shatter. Without another glance at Castiel, he stormed to the bar ordering two double whiskeys. The bartender complied, if not while looking slightly concerned. Again, Dean downed the first one, and sat heavily on the stool to sip the second. He was fuming and he knew that he should leave, but he needed to talk to Cas, ask him what the hell was going on here.

The music changed again, and the voice he knew was coming soon was at his back. “Dean?” He sounded tired, and Dean could relate.

Dean spun the chair around to face the angel, the real angel that stood in front of him, wearing mock wings and halo. Up close he could see the halo was held up by thin, stiff wire, wrapped around a black headband. He reached to remove it from Cas’ head gently and placed it on the bar behind him.

“This is where you’ve been? All of heaven fell from the damn sky, and you’re here stripping for cash. Why didn’t you call me, Cas?” He was mad, raging even, but he kept his cool, partly for the sad look on Castiel’s face, and partly because the alcohol chilled him out a bit.

“I was… embarrassed,” Cas replied shyly, shuffling his feet and slouching his shoulders inwards.

“Embarrassed? A little late for that, huh? Damn it, Cas. Take these things off!” He yanked the wings off him and Cas seemed to shrink into himself even more. Dean immediately felt bad and removed his coat to drape it over Cas’ shoulders. “Now tell me, what happened?”

Cas looked uncertain, but proceeded to tell Dean all about Metatron, the Angel Tablet, how his Grace was stolen, and how he was tricked.

“Your Grace? So what does that mean? No more mojo?” Dean got it right but still wasn’t completely grasping the gravity of the situation.

“No, no more mojo, Dean. I am not an angel anymore.” Cas was so embarrassed, he could barely look at Dean. He shrugged awkwardly in Dean’s jacket, feeling the fabric rub over his shoulders, making him shiver.

“Like, you’re human?” Cas nodded. “Ok, so you thought it would be best if you started stripping for money, wearing fake angel wings?”

“I heard that stripping was quite a profitable career. I had no money, and I can no longer fly places.” He said it in that mechanical, professor like way that he said most things, but Dean could tell that he was cracking. Unfamiliar with the wild range of human emotions, Cas was becoming overwhelmed, his forehead scrunching up, and tears welling in those big blue eyes.

“You could have called me, I would have come to get you.” Dean sounded broken too, like he didn’t need one more thing in this world to feel guilty about. He held out his hands out to Cas, who took them cautiously. He took a deep breath before explaining.

“I hurt you, and I was mortified to learn that I had been tricked by Metatron. All the angels are stranded here on Earth because of me. I did not want you to see me as a fool.”

“Come here,” Dean pulled Cas between his legs and into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Do you have any more clothes? Do you want to leave here?” Cas nodded again, sighing quietly at the hand rubbing his back. It felt good to be touched. “Then go get them, I hate to see you in a place like this. I’ll take you home and we can talk about all this later.”

When Cas returned from backstage with a small backpack, Dean ushered him towards the door with a hand on the small of his back. The bartender called out to them, “Hey man, you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine. He is my… friend.” That seemed to convince the man that Dean wasn’t stealing him from the club against his will.

“I’m too drunk to drive home tonight, we’re gonna have to sleep in the car.” Dean climbed into the driver’s seat, and Cas, next to him in the passenger’s seat.

“This is fine.” He was quiet, shy, and so much smaller than Dean remembered. Maybe without his bravado, the angel mojo, he didn’t stand as tall, wasn’t as puffed up. He did look very tired and worn out.

“So why did you choose to be an angel while stripping?” The question was out there now. Did he miss his wings? Was it self-punishment?

“The manager assigns our costumes. I did not choose that outfit, he seemed to think that I fit the part,” he said wryly. Dean huffed a quiet laugh at the irony of that but said nothing.

“That’s not what they are like, by the way.” Cas whispered, fidgeting with the hem of the jacket.

“What?”

“My wings. They were nothing like the costume wings.”

Dean frowned at the word "were". “I’m sorry, Cas.” The ex-angel understood what he meant.

“When I get my wings back, I want you to see them, really see them. We never show humans, but I want you to see me.” With that statement, Cas finally looked up at Dean, a tiny smile pulling at his lips.

Dean couldn’t help the twinge in his chest. He knew that angel wings were not of this dimension, invisible to humans, and hardly ever revealed to them. His heart swelled with pride and thankfulness that Cas would share something so intimate with him.

“Yeah, Cas. When you get them back, I would love to see them.” He motioned for Cas to slide over closer to him where he placed an arm around his shoulders, holding him close. “Get some rest.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas snuggled in close, grateful for human contact that was free of any exchange of currency, something he was sure humans took for granted. He vowed that he would try to appreciate it more.  “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Next time, please call me when you are in trouble.” Cas nodded his head. “Now go to sleep.” Dean gave him one last squeeze around his shoulders and dropped a kiss in his fluffy dark hair.


End file.
